


Song for S. Lorenz

by YourWaifuAHack



Category: SCP Foundation
Genre: Abstract, Based on a Dream, Gen, Weirdness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-22 13:15:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17663348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YourWaifuAHack/pseuds/YourWaifuAHack
Summary: A while ago, I dreamed about uploading an SCP to the main site. It wasn't a very good SCP and would probably be downvoted to hell, but I tried my best to remember it anyway.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sometime in fall 2017 or winter 2018. A day after 3930 was posted, I believe. Hence the possible influence.

**Notice from Foundation administrative records:**  
The following documents are classified as level 6/2747.  
Shut down your computer within three (4) minutes and report to the nearest Information Department that your computer has been infected with a Pine Trees class hazardous bug.  
Reading past this point will result in termination. Please remember when voting that  I was, like, ten when I wrote this.

* * *

 

 **Item #:** SCP-3

 **Object Class:** ZK

 **Special Containment Procedures:** SCP-3 does not exist.

 **Description:** The only currently feasible way to stop the path of SCP-3 is by channeling negative emotion regarding SCP-3 in whichever direction it is currently travelling. Procedures are detailed below:

  * If travelling east, channel negativity by facing east of Outpost-3-9 for twenty-four (4) hours. Without breaking eye contact with the tree in the middle, repeat phrases referring to SCP-3 negatively for this duration of time.
  * If travelling north, channel negativity by facing north of Outpost-3-9 for twenty-four (4) hours. Without breaking eye contact with the tree in the middle, repeat phrases referring to SCP-3 negatively for this duration of time.
  * If travelling west, channel negativity by facing west of Outpost-3-9 for twenty-four (4) hours. Without breaking eye contact with the tree in the middle, repeat phrases referring to SCP-3 negatively for this duration of time.
  * If travelling south, channel negativity by facing south of Outpost-3-9 for twenty-four (4) hours. Without breaking eye contact with the tree in the middle, repeat phrases referring to SCP-3 negatively for this duration of time.



Failure to continuously channel negative emotion for twenty-four (4) hours within three minutes of SCP-3’s activation will result in a ZK-Class “End-of-Dreamscape” Scenario. Foundation plants placed in various world governments will inform citizens of this event via television, radio, internet, etc. Citizens will be advised to spend their remaining time with family, friends, and significant others. If citizens refuse to comply, lethal force and illegal action is acceptable.

* * *

 

**Log Fried Chicken Tower 1:**

The following document was written by D-3333333333333333339, who has never taken part in an SCP exploration, after exposure to SCP-3 within a private chamber reinforced by 70 meters of concrete shelling. D-33333333333333339 was suffering from fried chicken at the time of writing and is currently undergoing psychological evaluation.

+Access Log Fried Chicken Tower 1 

_So, I’m in a house now, it looks sort of like my sister's. I’m standing at the entrance. Should I leave? You want me to describe it? Okay. Everything’s super blurry and under-saturated-it looks like there’s some sort of...static underneath my vision, you know? Focusing is painful. It's too hard._

_There’s a sofa next to me. Black and slightly damaged. There’s a girl...no, an old woman sitting on it. To my left, there’s a…hold on, someone’s tapping on my shoulder...crap, I can’t turn around. My neck is stuck. She’s pointing at the piano in front of the couch. I want to go outside and inhale some fresh air. The door. I can’t reach the door._

_I sit down and play._

_I’m in a car. One of the windows is open, I can feel the wind in my hair. Everything’s distorted and scribbly but concentration is easier now._

_I’m walking on the sidewalk-nope, bouncing, almost floating, is a better word. The sun slaps me in the face and there’s a tower of chicken bones standing in front of a church. Someone’s climbing on it. Twirling, climbing, under, over, under, over. A voice announcing every movement. Damn, there’s a whole line of them-people waiting to burn on the tower…_

_The church is a giant bowl of fire. Children climb on the tower and an old man stands on top. “And [] reaches for the bar above her-is she gonna make it? Her foot slips on the crack-I guess not.”_

_Jessica. It’s Jessica…oh god no._

_The line cheers. Repeat with a different person. Over and over. A different kid-a boy this time-climbs up as_ she _descends. The tower is reducing to bone cubicles._

_The woman taps on my shoulder again. “Do you want to try?” Nostalgia beckons me to say yes. But that fucking "story" kept coming back-the one with a girl falling down a skyscraper-I shake my head no, the urge is too weak to argue._

_I tell her, “It’s the kind of thing I would have enjoyed as a child.”_

* * *

 

**Addendum 1:**

It’s awakened. I stare at the blue mountains outside the cabin, and think: Fuck you, river. Fuck you, river. Why do you exist. Why were you ever born.

I try to repeat it at a steady pace but my voice keeps choking up and my teeth start falling out.

Go die go die go die, river, delete yourself.

I’m forgetting words now. Ahaha what the hell is happening.

Floating backwards out the window let me go let me go. I want to be a hero. The tree is not real and the river is a liar. I hate you more than anything.

* * *

 

**Addendum 2:**

We got back to Sophia’s house safely after the river incident. False alarm, it turned out. My mom and I, we waited for her in the mudroom. I pointed to one of the paintings taped to the walls-it showed some silver eldritch abomination. “If I said a sixteen year old drew that would you believe me?”

“Sixteen year old? This? If they were really bad at art, yeah. This looks like something you would draw as a baby.”

She was right. The once priceless painting had devolved into gray crayon scribbles, flecked with dirt and something wet. A muddy footprint appeared and my mother crumpled the drawing. She handed it to me and muttered, “If you worship her so much, here you go.”

The one I worshiped was in the living room. She sat eating a bowl of banana ice cream and looked kinda like she was about to fall asleep. Her face was too long and her nose was too small and her eyes too far apart. She was also very short and her hair was very messy. She looked up at me and said, “I don’t want to see that drawing again. I have work to do. More important things than…that.”

The room seemed to grow colder.

I had my birthday party ten days ago. It was at a planetarium, and that painting-the better one, before its metamorphosis-was shown on the screen, unmoving, unchanging for a whole hour. All the guests were mesmerized anyway.

* * *

 

 **Revision 1/17/** **11** **:**

On **/**/**, the following document was found open on the computer of Dr. M******  C*******, a level 4 researcher directing studies relating to reality warpers, including SCP-3.

+Access Addendum 3 

I remember this song from when I was a kid-for some reason, my parents would always sing it to me at night. Sometimes I caught them singing it by themselves when I was supposed to be asleep, and I would get angry because it was “my song”, that they made up specifically for me.

And if that part of six-year-old me was still there by the time I went to high school, I would be pissed. Singing “my” song became the hot new trend, whether as humor or as art. We would shout the lyrics at each other in the hallways. It was played at the popular kid’s parties. Our school choir even sang it once. It was played in both our heads on our first date.

I never stopped to consider its meaning.

+Access Document 3-1: 

**_Eigenbrown_ **

By John Cardinal

 _We eat pine trees around the fire_  
_With sauce and sauce and pork_  
_We try hard to remember we were children before_  
_Drawing circles deep December_  
_No such thing as Christmas joy_  
_Only constructions and constructions  
And eating pine trees._

 _Oh Suiliann, you’ll get lonely_  
_Misha never really cared for you_  
_Your brothers and sisters are all in college_  
_The girl and the dog in her purse are long dead  
Caele has moved to France._

 

* * *

 

_IF YOU ARE READING THIS THEN YOU HAVE ALREADY WOKEN UP. ACCESS RESTRICTED TO LEVEL SYRUP-3/KML AND ABOVE. OR YOU WILL DIE I PROMISE LIKE A WITCH OR A FASCIST._

+Who said I had to use syrup format?: 

Well this is why I think fanfiction should be considered art:

You can use whatever format you want!                                                            ::Not like :in B R O W N school where     y o u need proper SCP format.

I wa                                 nted            my parents to make me some :::::::::::: good pancakes with syrup but then I remembered they are dead.

                                                                       Dead people can’t make pancakes ::

What can they do?

                                         _Levitate them:: And levitate the syrup like in homestuck. And fight other people who can levitate pancakes._

 : i think my parents are:

                                                       Really proud of me because I’m getting into brown school with this award-winning rocks essay. Syrup rock I found in snow. Syrup rock I found in my backyard. Now I’m selling it. Only at [store]. Only at ten. Only at SCP-3000. Only at leaf man. Only at adding too many colons. ONly 0nly only only only only OwOnly owwwwwwww oof im chonking

* * *

 

+LCB’s remix: 

(Circle) 3

(Circle) 2

(Circle) Pi

(Circle) 0

(Circle) END

 

+my dog's remix: 

_Who said it would get better?_  
_There’s more to know and there’s less time to learn_  
_Than when my biggest problem was upvote churning._  
_The more I learn the less I remember.  
The more I remember the less I use._

_I still know almost nothing except syrup syrup syrup syrup [DATA CORRUPTED]._

+Eigenbrown: Conclusion 

_[Chanting]:_

_So now my song’s in the top 100_  
_All you nobodies wondering what it’s about._  
_Here’s the conclusion we draw from the thesis:_

 _[Singing]:_  
_My story starts in Paris, my story starts in Rome_  
_My story starts whichever place I choose to call my home_

 _My story starts in London, in Warsaw or Berlin_  
_My home is just whichever place I say I start within._

 _[Rapping]:_  
_What’s the moral of the story?_  
_Nothing ever even changed._  
_We still tell our kids, “because I said so”,_  
_Think about if it was us._

_System system system system END. fight_

_K.H.,_

_Go to sleep and lend me your godhood._

_S.L._


	2. Songstress

**Songstress**   
_For K (Connie) and M.C._   
  


_[Phase 1, Entry 1]_  
We tell lies around the fire  
On loss and loss and war  
Trying so hard to remember we were children before  
World's end deadline inching closer  
No such thing as holy days  
All his life was only acting and faking stories

Oh Suiliann, you'll get lonely  
Misha never really cared for you  
Your brothers and sisters are all in college  
That girl and the dog in her purse are long dead  
Caele has moved to France

_[Phase 1, Entry 2]_  
Who said time would make it better?  
There's more to know and less time to learn  
Than when the biggest problem was my reflection  
The more I learn the less I remember  
The more I remember the less I use

_[Phase 1, Entry 3]_  
If this song spreads across the seas  
 And outsiders wonder what it's all about  
Here's the conclusion we drew from the thesis:

My story starts in Paris, my story starts in Rome  
My story starts whichever place I choose to call my home

My story starts in London, in Warsaw or Berlin  
My home is just whichever place I say I start within

What's the moral of the story?  
Nothing every really changed  
We still tell our kids, "because I said so"  
What did we think when the children were us?

Home's just a location and a story's just a line  
If it starts inside a hellhole there's no way to turn back time

_[Phase 1, Entry 4]_  
Who said it would get better?  
Suiliann never made a friend  
And now Caele is only getting worse since  
Mikhail stopped returning

Who said time would make it better?  
Charlie still judges at first site  
Caele won't every break her cycle  
Mili never broke the curse

_[Phase 2, Entry 5]_  
I tried hard to make new friends for you to open up your mind  
But what you're going to do with them is your choice to decide

One will never get their eyes back  
One will never be redeemed  
One was trapped in fate they saw when  
One turned fate against themselves

Oh Suiliann, aren't you lonely?  
Mikhail isn't coming back for  _you  
_ Your cousins are all in college now  
Never even learned their names  
Charlie thinks you are a bother  
 _They_ don't even want your blood  
That girl and the dog in her purse are long dead  
Caele has moved to France

_[Phase 2, Entry 6]_  
Who the hell is this kid?  
How did he get his hands on this shit?  
You can't go around calling on whoever you feel bad for  
I thought I taught you better

_[Phase 2, Entry 7]_  
Now the night is done and we had fun along the way  
While waiting for the morning sun to bring us darker days

Oh T., You're a hellscape  
I don't know which one I'm talking to  
 _They_ are stuck in Charlie's judgment  
The child is stuck in Limbo's curse  
You-know-who says you're a bother  
 _[Connie]_ won't vouch for your soul  
Your shards and the ones on the moon are long dead  
Now I lay me down to sleep  
Then just hit eject

_[Phase 3, Entry 8]_  
Heaven's judgement  
Jurors guilty  
Sinking deeper  
Back to square one  
One step forwards  
Two step backwards  
Don't you move now  
Stay right here

"Tell me please"  
Evil eye  
Never change  
Never die  
Go to sleep  
Don't ask why  
"Give me love  
Give me life"

Hands of light  
Hold me tight

_[Phase 3, Entry 9]_  
My story starts in Iceland, it ended in Japan  
I only stay alive so I can let  _them_ know I am

My story starts in heaven, it plunged to depths of hell  
There never was a middle phase as far as I could tell

Nothing changes.  
Nothing happens.  
Nothing matters.  
Nothing lasts.

_[Phase 3, Entry 10]_  
The world is falling apart at the seems  
We were doomed since day one  
I already had fifteen minutes of fame  
Now pretend it's all over and done

So Kamilia, why so silent?  
You only ever spoke the truth  
The worm forever goes unpunished  
If he does not show remorse  
I boarded the boat, I let you see  
"Water is wet", leave me be  
I.B. won't be coming back  
Now I lay me down to sleep  
 _[Connie]_ is a hack


End file.
